


Cast Beyond The Moon

by tridecaphilia



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9403562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tridecaphilia/pseuds/tridecaphilia
Summary: After two attempts to run away, Saix had almost convinced himself to be content with his life as attendant to the heir of Radiant Garden. Almost. Until King Mickey of Disneyland put Saix at the center of his crusade against slavery--and his master fell in love with him.A rewrite of the discontinued fic Collared Moon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is back, more or less. Much later than intended, but I'm off hiatus. I finally made the decision to go ahead and discontinue and start over. Most of what I'm doing so far is cutting parts I put in before and editing what I've left for continuity because honestly, I didn't decide the backstory before I started writing. But this one has a complete outline--another thing I didn't do the first go-round--and hopefully I'll be able to get it all down without taking another break.

_ Ten years ago _

_ “I want that one.” _

_ Ansem looked the slave over and shook his head. “No. You will have a bred slave. This one isn't even broken.” _

_ Lea rolled his eyes. “I don't _ want _ a bred slave. I want him.” _

_ The auctioneer was naming the slave’s qualities. With every word, Ansem shook his head more. _

_ “Mages cannot be broken,” he said. “Nor can fighters. This one is both, and a runaway to boot.” _

_ “Come on, Dad. You said this was for me. So I should get to pick.” _

_ “I said it was time you had an attendant,” Ansem said sternly. “I never said you would choose him.” _

_ The crowd was silent, no bids offered. No one was willing to risk so much on a slave who bore the X-shaped scar--twice a runaway. _

~

“Dad,” Lea said, pausing to make sure he had his father’s attention. Ansem didn’t look up from the reports he was studying. “ _ Dad, _ ” Lea said again, a little louder.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Ansem said.

It wasn’t full, but Lea made a face and swallowed the remnants of eggs anyway. “Dad, can I go into town?” It rankled having to ask--ten years ago Lea  _ never _ asked--but all things considered, he’d rather have the king’s blessing than not. It would be awkward if whoever had tried to kill Ansem managed to kill Lea when Ansem didn’t even know his heir wasn’t in the castle.

_ Not, _ Lea reminded himself, that he was going to die. It had been a month since the attempt. But Ansem was still worried.

Ansem finally looked up from his report. “What business have you in town?”

Saix would have had a better answer than Lea did. He always had an answer for anything that was asked. Lea, on the other hand, hadn’t really thought this through. He glanced over to the door to the hallway leading to the kitchens, where the slaves were eating. Saix usually got back by now.

“No business,” he said. “Just for fun. Ienzo could come. Let everyone see that the princes are alive and well. One of the kitchen slaves heard a rumor that we were dead, Saix told me.”

Ansem shook his head. “There will be public appearances enough soon,” he said firmly. “King Mickey of Disneyland arrives this evening. It is a chance to renew diplomatic negotiations…”

Lea tuned out the rest. He knew the basics of the struggle between Disneyland and Radiant Garden--Disneyland didn’t own slaves, and had placed serious restrictions on goods produced by slave labor. Disneyland had a large consumer market--Saix had mentioned offhandedly that it had grown when Mickey abolished slavery and started enforcing a living wage--and the loss had hurt.

He tuned back in when Ansem said, “And given the recent unrest, it would be unwise for you to go into the city.”

Roxas chimed in before Lea could say anything. “The young master would also like to go, Your Majesty,” he said. “Kairi promised to show him around Fountain Square. She said there’s a hidden passage there.”

Lea shot Ienzo a grateful smile. Ansem  _ never _ said no to Ienzo.

Ansem sighed. “I will send Aeleus with you.”

Lea grinned triumphantly.

The door to the dining room opened. Ansem didn’t glance at it, but Lea’s grin spread when he saw his attendant enter. “Saix!” he said. “We’re going into town.”

Saix looked startled to be addressed, but bowed to his master, then to Ansem when the king looked at him, hands pressed together in front of him like he was praying.

“I’m not sure Saix should go with you,” Ansem said.

Lea glanced at him, surprised to hear him voice such an action. “Why not?”

Ansem was scrutinizing Saix, who had retreated to his normal position behind Lea and to his right. Lea couldn’t help looking over his shoulder to watch his attendant.

“Because he is a runaway,” Ansem said.

Try though he did, Lea couldn’t see any reaction in Saix’s face. It would help, he supposed, if Saix would look at him, but like any good slave he kept his eyes on the ground.

“He’s never run from me,” Lea said.

“He’s never had the chance,” Ansem said.

Lea rolled his eyes. That was a dead lie and Ansem knew it as well as he did. “Dad,” he said, “Saix gets recognized before  _ I _ do. You think he’d have a chance  _ now? _ ”

That time he did see a reaction, just briefly, a flash of discomfort on his slave’s features. He didn’t have time to analyze it before Ansem spoke again.

“You will take him,” Ansem said, “but I will reduce the radius on his collar.”

Lea rolled his eyes again. He’d been told he was too old to do that anymore, but he’d yet to find a more effective way of communicating how  _ stupid _ he thought this was. He’d had Saix for ten years, given him plenty of chances to run away a third time. Saix was too loyal for that, or maybe he was just too scared to die. The third time a slave ran, it meant death.

“You will see and be seen,” Ansem said, returning to his reports. “I will send a messenger so that Kairi can meet you at Fountain Square. Police will be dispatched for additional security. You have two hours and then I expect you back here.”

Lea made a face, but Ienzo had gotten what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get anything better.

~

Saix didn’t realize he was running his fingers along his collar until Lea asked him, “You  _ weren’t _ thinking of running, right?”

Saix dropped his hand instinctively, eyes widening. He kept his head down, but glanced up at his master through his lashes. Lea had stopped waving to the well-wishers who were gathered along the road and at doors and windows and was studying Saix with a look that Saix could only call a pout.

“You’ve been fussing with it since we left,” Lea said, nodding to the collar. “You weren’t…”

“No, Master,” Saix said quickly, looking back at the ground. “I have never considered running from you.” For very different reasons than because it would mean his death to try.

Lea couldn’t entirely hide his sigh of relief. “So why are you fidgeting?”

Saix glanced at Ienzo and Roxas, but the two were deep in a sign language conversation and not listening. “A hundred yards, Master,” he said. “I’ve been separated from you by more than that plenty of times.”

He managed to catch the embarrassed look on Lea’s face. He had a habit of wandering off in crowded places like the market and leaving Saix behind. It always scared Saix to know that anyone looking could mistake him for a three-time runaway.

“Well, we’re only going to Fountain Square,” he said. “That’s barely a hundred yards across, and I’m not following them into this hidden passage. It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to reassure me, Master,” Saix reminded him, but it  _ was _ reassuring. At least the collar wouldn’t trigger and choke him for wandering when it was his master who’d wandered.

The roof was down on the limo, letting people see them. For all the people who wished the princes well, Saix could feel the eyes that went to him. He stood out in Radiant Garden, a twice-runaway from Agrabah. Rumors had circulated after the attack--one had even made it into the castle--that Saix had had something to do with it.

That had been the first time Saix had ever seen Ansem angry on his behalf. He’d been the target of his owner’s rage before, many times--but this time, Ansem had been angry  _ for _ him. He’d summoned the entire household, from the lowliest kitchen slave to the highest-ranked guard, into the audience hall and told them all sternly that while any  _ solid _ information on the attack was welcome, any baseless accusations made against members of the household would be met with harsh discipline.

The rumors had stopped after that.

But no one could control the rumor mill that ran the capital city, and Saix could almost hear the whispers that surrounded them. He’d managed to get one of the kitchen slaves who took deliveries to keep him updated on the city rumors. Among them was the rumor that the princes had been killed in the attack, and one that Saix had been killed for being a conspirator.

The closer they got to Fountain Square, the slower they had to move. Most of these streets were walked by the working classes and servants running errands for their masters. They pressed close, trying to see the princes.

Saix couldn’t help looking around. He kept his eyes off faces, but glanced around as much as he could, looking in windows at at rooftops. In such a crowd, it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him.

The reprimand, when it came, came not from his master but from Ienzo’s attendant. Roxas put a small hand on Saix’s knee, startling him back to himself. He looked down, and the hand vanished. He knew better, he did. But he was nervous. Senses he’d thought long buried were telling him something was going to go horribly wrong.

The press of bodies vanished as they crossed into Fountain Square. Another car was there already, and a collared slave opened the door to reveal Ienzo’s young playmate. Kairi bounded out of the car--

Aeleus cried out as his motorcycle collapsed under him.

Saix’s head snapped up in time to see Aeleus. Somewhere in his mind, a switch flipped, and everything grew sharper, brighter. He saw, in the time it took Aeleus to hit the ground, that the man was bleeding from his left shoulder. He saw, a second later, their driver collapse forward, bleeding from his head.

_ Guns. _ Someone was shooting at them with guns. From the angle, they had to be up high--

Saix seized the collar of his master’s shirt, yanking him to the floor of the limo. “Stay down,” he hissed, and reached for Roxas and Ienzo. He’d catch hell for this later, but he wasn’t thinking about that, couldn’t afford to think about that right now.

He lunged, staying as low as he could as he ran up the aisle of the limo until he could reach the dashboard and hit the button to close the roof. He dove outside before it could finish closing, ran to Aeleus’s side. The driver was beyond saving, but the guard…

Aeleus was bleeding badly, but if Saix remembered his lessons right, the bullet wouldn’t have hit anything vital. Saix flexed his hands. He hadn’t cast magic--hadn’t been  _ allowed _ to cast magic--in the ten years since Ansem had purchased him. But he would now.

“ _ Stop, _ ” he whispered, and the familiar tingling of raw magic flowed through his hands and sank into the guard. Aeleus’s ragged breathing stopped, his muscles froze in place, the blood stopped flowing. The spell would last, at best, four or five minutes. That was how long Saix had to stop the immediate crisis so he could heal the guard properly. (If he was allowed to heal the guard properly.)

Another bullet hit the ground right past him. He didn’t have long. Guns weren’t tremendously accurate--the shooter would have had to fire four or five times to get the headshot that had killed the driver--but they were deadly.

Channeling the amount of magic he would need to drag someone off a far rooftop would kill his hands and make him unable to finish the fight. Magic tended to destroy anything it passed through unless that thing was specifically insulated against it.

His eyes flicked to Aeleus’s axe-sword, sheathed against the guard’s back. He knew Aeleus had some form of magic--the rumors said earth magic. And even if the sword wasn’t made to channel it, it would stand up to magic better than Saix’s hands.

By Ansem’s command, he was forbidden to wield a weapon--or magic.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when another bullet hit the ground, passing by him so close he felt it tear his clothes. He spared no more thought for orders, just seized the axe-sword and pulled it out of the sheath. He gave himself a heartbeat to regret the loss of the claymore he’d been raised to wield before lifting the sword into the air and summoning magic to run through it. “ _ Wind, _ ” he hissed.

The air whirled around him, dragging everything closer. The limo rolled a few feet toward him--and a woman screamed as her body was hurtled off a rooftop toward him.

Saix lowered the blade into a guard position. It had stood up to the magic, so that was one worry down. Now only one thing remained--killing the woman who had threatened his master.

The blonde rolled as she hit the ground, her gun skittering out of her hands several feet away. She got to her feet quickly, knives sliding out of her sleeves into her hands.

“No one told me you could  _ fight, _ ” she said with a teasing grin, lifting her knives. “This just got a lot more  _ fun. _ ”

Saix didn’t answer. He glanced at the gun, but it was well out of both their reach, and a Magnet spell to summon it to him would be a waste of energy. He didn’t know how to wield one. Most people didn’t--Port Royal and the Land of Dragons were the only countries who had figured out gunpowder, and they weren’t sharing.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned back to find the woman charging him. He stood his ground, sword up and ready. He had a longer reach than her, she couldn’t possibly--

She hurled the knives at him with unexpected force. His eyes widened, and he dove to the side, one of the knives tearing into his shoulder. He ignored the pain, slashing a wide arc in front of him with Aeleus’s axe-sword.  _ Fire, _ he thought, and a line of the element flared in the wake of his sword, racing toward the woman. Saix brought his sword back up, expecting her to jump over the flames.

She didn’t. She  _ dove, _ rolling into a tight ball under the flames. Saix tried to adjust, but the woman was back on her feet, and between him and his master. She hurled another knife and turned, running toward the car.

Saix blocked the knife with his sword and pointed it at her.  _ Thunder, _ he thought, and lightning burst from the clear sky to strike the woman.

The strangest thing happened. Instead of screaming, the woman lifted her hands, arching  _ into _ the lightning bolt. The bolt lingered, slowly fading--into her flesh.

Saix realized his mistake, charging the woman before she could finish absorbing the lightning.  _ لعنتی  _ _ elementals, _ he cursed to himself, firing a Blizzard spell from the sword.

The spell hit the woman in the back and knocked her forward, but Saix couldn’t summon the concentration for a Deep Freeze or something that would stop her in place, not when he had to get her  _ away from the car. _

He charged, sword coming up, yelling to draw her attention. The woman whirled, knives coming up, but Saix was already there. The woman hurled a knife--

Saix thrust Aeleus’s sword through her chest.

The knife drove itself into his shoulder, but he ignored the pain. The woman’s eyes were wide and startled, but he ignored that too. He twisted with his whole body, and the sword ripped through the woman’s chest and out her arm. She dropped, spine cut clean in half.

Saix lowered Aeleus’s sword, adrenaline slowly fading from his system. The woman, he noted, was still breathing. He cut her throat--it was a mercy; she’d never live long enough to make it to a healer.

“Saix!”

He looked up sharply, then back down. He’d known his master wouldn’t stay inside now that the danger was over.

Lea stumbled as he leapt too fast out of the car, running toward Saix. Saix who still held a forbidden weapon in his hand.

~

Lea’s feet stuttered to a halt as Saix dropped to one knee, setting Aeleus's sword beside him and lowering his head.

“Saix? What--?”

“I beg your forgiveness, Master,” Saix said. Gone was the fire that had filled him when they were under attack. Every inch of him was once again the perfect slave.

“Forgiveness?” Lea repeated, brain scrambling. What was he talking about?

“For taking up arms,” Roxas said helpfully.

Lea looked over his shoulder. Ienzo and Roxas had gotten out of the limo. Roxas’s eyes were on his master as he translated the signs flying from Ienzo’s fingers.

“For--” Lea looked back at Saix, heart sinking. “Of course I forgive you,” he said, surprised his voice didn’t crack. “You saved me. You saved all of us.”

“The young master would like to inquire as to the health of Aeleus,” Roxas said.

“He was alive when I took his blade, young master,” Saix replied without moving or looking up. “I cast Stop to keep him from deteriorating. With your permission, I can heal him.”

“Do it,” Lea ordered.

“As you command, Master.”

Saix got to his feet, keeping his eyes down as he went to Aeleus and knelt beside him. He pressed his hands together, then to Aeleus’s chest. “Heal,” he murmured. Green light flared around his hands and soaked into Aeleus’s skin. The awful wound Lea had been trying not to look at sealed back together.

“The young master would like to now heal  _ your _ wounds,” Roxas piped up.

Saix looked up, startled out of his role as the deferent slave. He caught himself quickly and looked back down. “If my master commands,” he said.

“Yeah,” Lea said, frowning. “‘Course. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Saix went to Ienzo, who put his hands on the wounds in his arm. Lea watched him--arms too strong for a mere personal attendant, the collar that would choke him if he tried to run, X-shaped scar on his face still screaming to all the world that he’d run anyway, twice.

Saix had been a constant in his life since he’d convinced his father to buy him. Ansem had warned him when he did that Saix would prove him right within a week and he’d have to pick a bred slave.

And for a little while, it had seemed Ansem was right. Lea had spent many hours arguing with his dad--that Saïx could be trained, that he followed _ Lea's _ orders faithfully. He'd won--and eventually, Saïx had stopped fighting. He hadn't done anything against Ansem's will in… in so long Lea couldn't remember.

He hadn't realized until now how much he missed it.

~

Saix stayed quiet on the way back, trying not to think of what awaited him when they returned home.

He would of course have to confess to Ansem what he’d done. It had been Ansem’s orders he’d violated, not Lea’s. Lea might be his master, but it was Ansem’s name on the property papers, Ansem who owned him.

There had been no question of continuing their journey. Leaving the castle so soon after an attempt on the King’s life had been risky enough. Continuing the trip after an attempt on  _ theirs _ would be tantamount to suicide. They'd stayed only long enough for a new driver to arrive.

The people could not be kept away now. The car moved slowly, careful not to injure any of the well-wishers who flocked to the car wanting to be sure no one had been gravely injured. Saïx could hear the whispers when people saw him, louder now than on their way into the city. Even after Ienzo healed him, his ripped clothes and the blood on his arm would spread rumors.

Despite the crowds, Lea seemed right at home. Saix’s master chatted happily with the people who came to look through the lowered windows, reached through and shook hands with a few of them. Ienzo, on the other side of the car, waved and smiled through the tinted glass.

“We’re fine,” Lea promised over and over. “We’re all fine.”

He didn’t mention Saix’s role in keeping them that way, for which Saix could only be grateful. Rumors spread quickly in Radiant Garden, and Saïx was at the center of too many already. Ansem would be angry enough that Saïx had disobeyed; Saïx didn't want him to learn of what he'd done from anyone but Aeleus. He  _ thought _ Aeleus would be on his side, if for no other reason than that Saix had healed his wounds. The guards had always been fair to Saix, none of them hating him, as Ansem did, for being a runaway and a fighter.

Lea breathed a sigh of relief when the limo left the crowds and made it to the private streets that ringed the castle. He shot Saix a sheepish grin, reminding Saix to look down rather than at his master’s face.

“I love people,” he said. “But man, it’s nerve-wracking having so many around after all that.”

“As you say, Master,” Saix murmured.

He waited, eyes on his master’s feet, until the limo stopped in front of the castle. The driver stepped out and opened the door. Lea left, then Ienzo and Roxas. Saix followed.

“My sons!”

Saix stepped behind his master, hating himself for the cowardice. He would have to face Ansem eventually, would have to tell him that he’d disobeyed the oldest orders he was still expected to follow.

The problem was, he didn’t know what Ansem would do. He might only have Saix beaten, or he might decide Saix could not be broken after all and sell him again.

For all his early rebellion, for all his attempts to run away, he did not, had never, wanted to be sold from the castle. If he had to be a slave, this was not a bad household to be a slave in. Ansem was strict but fair, ensured his slaves had enough to eat and were not punished for imagined crimes, even Saïx whom he loathed. Saix had been in worse households. If Ansem sold him, he might well be in a worse household again.

Saix looked up through his lashes enough to see Ansem embrace first Lea, then Ienzo. He looked rattled. Had something happened at the castle?

“Aeleus arrived five minutes ago,” Ansem said, looking between his charges. “He told me--”

He looked up at Saix, and something shifted in his expression. Saix took that as his cue, dropped to one knee and lowered his head, hand over his heart.

“My Lord Ansem,” he said. “I beg your forgiveness. I have taken up arms and magic. I meant only to defend my master, but in doing so I disobeyed your orders. There is no excuse.”

“Saix--” Lea began.

Saix didn’t look up, and Lea didn’t go on. Somehow Ansem must have silenced him.

“Aeleus told me,” Ansem said heavily. “That he fell, and you took up his sword and killed the woman who felled him.”

Saix didn’t answer. Lea expected answers when he was only talking, but Ansem was stricter. A slave was to be quiet unless asked a direct question or responding to an order. That Saix had spoken at all was unusual enough.

“Stand up, Saix.”

He rose, eyes on Ansem’s feet. He lowered his hand to his side.

“I owe you my children’s lives.”

There was something in Ansem’s voice that made Saix wish he could look at his face and see what was there. But not now, not while Ansem decided his fate.

Ansem cleared his throat. “You are forgiven your offenses,” he said, voice back to normal.

Saix bowed, hands pressed together in front of him, as he would have bowed to the Voice of his people. “Thank you, my Lord Ansem.”

“I have much to discuss,” Ansem said, speaking now to his children. “Trouble struck here as well while you were out. No one was seriously injured.”

He was quiet, and Roxas said, “The young master would like to offer his services healing anyone who was hurt in any way.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ienzo.” Saix could imagine the fatherly hand that had landed on the twelve-year-old’s head. “Even has already done his work. You run along. You have riding lessons in an hour, since your journey was cut short.”

Saix could imagine the face Ienzo was making. Radiant Garden had cars--Ansem’s family had a limo--but most people in other countries still trusted horses and carriages. Ienzo and Lea, as rulers, would have to travel to such places; as such, they had to know how to ride and handle a horse.

“What about me?” Lea asked.

“You have your own lessons to attend to,” Ansem said. “And you will join me for dinner this evening with King Mickey of Disneyland. You are old enough for it.”

Saix hid his surprise. The King of Disneyland was coming  _ here? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to post this. This chapter will be familiar to people who read the previous version.

_ Nine years ago _

_ “Saix. Saix, wake up.” _

_ The slave’s eyes flew open, body tensing as he sought out the speaker. He relaxed when he saw Lea. “Master?” he asked, looking over at the window. “It’s not dawn. What do you need of me?” _

_ “Need? Nothing.” Lea grinned proudly. “We’re going into the city before Dad wakes up.” _

_ For a moment, Saix looked alarmed. Lea ignored that, turned to the task of getting dressed. “Why are we not telling Lord Ansem, Master?” Saix asked. _

_ “Because,” Lea said as he pulled on a plain black tunic, “you’ve been with me a year. And that’s how long it’s been since I went and saw Zack.” _

_ “Zack?” Saix asked, bewildered. _

_ “Don’t worry,” Lea assured him. “You’ll like him.” _

~

Present Day

Most of the world ran on slave labor. It was something of a necessity in some areas. The factories of Traverse Town, the vast plantations of the Jungle could not run on paid labor. There was simply too much labor in those places, and not enough money. The rest of the world had grown accustomed to slavery so long ago that virtually nowhere debated its necessity.

Except Disneyland.

King Mickey had abolished slavery within his lands when he took the throne fourteen years ago, and since then had been fighting for other lands to do the same. He’d been locked in talks with Eraqus of the Land of Departure for many years. The Land of Departure did not keep slaves itself, but would allow visitors from other lands to bring slaves without those slaves becoming free, and it had replaced prison with hard labor. King Mickey had tried to talk Eraqus out of what he called “concessions to a vile machine,” but to no avail.

Lea yawned as Selphie went on about the relations between Disneyland and Radiant Garden. His father had been the target of Mickey’s diplomatic attempts recently, for what reason Lea couldn’t fathom. Radiant Garden was a feudal nation, not a pure monarchy like Disneyland. Some of the states of the Garden relied heavily on slavery. Ansem of all people wouldn’t bankrupt his nobles, or worse, push them to declare war against him.

“So why is he coming here, if it’s going so badly?” he asked, interrupting the teacher.

Selphie sighed. “His Majesty invited King Mickey to talks,” she said. “I believe he is hoping to renew talks of lowering King Mickey’s ban on bringing slaves into the country.”

“Yeah,  _ that’s _ gonna happen,” Lea muttered, looking over at Saix. His attendant was standing by the wall, hands clasped in front of him, eyes down. Lea’s mouth twisted. Saix’s face was always so perfectly blank. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind those eyes.

“Saix,” he said. “I’m thirsty.”

Saix bowed, hands pressed together in front of him. Lea had never asked why he did that. Maybe he should. “I will fetch water, Master,” Saix promised, and left the room.

“You’re really not going to listen no matter what I do, are you?” Selphie asked.

Well. He kinda felt guilty when she put it like that. “No offense,” he said, scratching his head. “I just--don’t see what all this has to do with me.”

Selphie put her hands on her hips. “You’re the heir to the throne of Radiant Garden, Lea,” she said. “You’re twenty-four. Your father expected you to already know this by now.”

“Yeah, well then he should’ve adopted me younger,” Lea said. “Not my fault I’m behind by ten years.”

“Only a few years, Your Highness,” Selphie said. “You wouldn’t have started lessons until you were at least seven or eight.”

“Right.” Well, there went that excuse. “I dunno, I just--Ienzo would be better at this than me.”

“Ienzo is young and can’t talk,” Selphie reminded him. “He will be your heir, if you don’t have a child, but you are the first in line.”

If he didn’t have a child. Well, that wouldn’t be a problem. He wasn’t even attracted to women. Hell, he wasn’t attracted to  _ any-- _

Unbidden, an image rose up in his mind, stolen earlier that day as he peeked through the windshield against Saix’s orders--Saix holding Aeleus’s sword, standing against the would-be assassin.

He coughed, diverting his attention back to the lesson.

Saix returned before Selphie could get them back on track, setting a glass of water in front of Lea. “Will there be anything else, Master?” he asked.

So quiet. So obedient. Ansem might like him this way, but it was starting to grate on Lea’s nerves. “What’s that thing you do when you bow mean?” he blurted.

Saix started to glance up, then caught himself and look down. “I don’t--know what you’re referring to, Master.”

“The thing with your hands. Like you’re praying. Why do you do that?”

Saix looked down at his hands like he hadn’t seen them before. “It’s a mark of respect, Master,” he said. “In my homeland, it’s how we bow to our ruler.”

“Oh.” That--seemed flattering, and a little weird.  _ This _ was Saix’s homeland now, right? Not--”What is your homeland?”

“I was born in Agrabah, Master.”

“Right.” He’d known that. Hadn’t he? Saix  _ looked _ like he was from Agrabah, with his dark skin. But--thinking back, no, Lea had never bothered to find out. “That--that’s all.” Awkwardly he added, “Thanks.”

Saix bowed, hands pressed together again (Lea  _ was _ royal, would one day be a ruler, but it was suddenly weird to see Saix treat him like one), and retreated to the wall.

~

“Saix.”

He knew that voice as well as he knew his master’s. He turned, bowing low to the man in the doorway. “My Lord Ansem.”

“I require you to wait on us at dinner tonight,” Ansem said.

“Yes, my Lord Ansem.” It was an unusual request, but not unprecedented. Saix could perform any duty his owner or master required of him. Learning quickly had been a survival skill since he’d been captured and sold. Doubly so once he reached the castle, where his every deficiency and mistake had been suspect.

Lea, however, had never met an order he wouldn’t question, even if the order wasn’t for him. “Why Saix? Why not Xehanort?”

“Xehanort is old,” Ansem said. He sounded old himself, just then. But he sounded much younger when he told Saix, “You will be representing my household. Do not disappoint me.”

Saix didn’t straighten from his bow. “Yes, my Lord Ansem.”

“That was weird,” Lea said when his father had left. “What’s he want  _ you _ to wait on us for? What’s wrong with Xehanort being old?”

Saix sighed. Lea wouldn’t mind if he sat down, but he stayed standing, merely straightened and turned back to face his master. “Disneyland has retirement, Master,” he said. “Adults over a given age do not work.”

“Really?” Lea sounded fascinated. “What do they do?”

“I don’t know, Master.”

“Wait a second.” Lea was frowning now, Saix could hear it in his voice. “How come you know that and I don’t?”

Saix didn’t smile. “I heard it in your lessons, Master.”

“Oh.” There was a sheepish grin in Lea’s voice now. “Yeah, I guess I must’ve spaced out that time.”

“As you say, Master.”

Given the choice, Saix would not have chosen Lea as the next King of Radiant Garden. Ienzo was much more thoughtful. Lea wanted to be left alone to slack and to run around like he was still sixteen. He didn’t take responsibility seriously. One day it would get him killed, if he wasn’t careful.

For now, though, Saix had to get his master changed into dinner clothes. Something else Lea would complain about. He sighed to himself.

~

Saix left Lea’s side when the prince was ready for dinner, heading down to the kitchen to see what needed done. Mrs. Potts was there already, ordering the paid cooks about like she didn’t notice the choke collar on her neck. She of all people could get away with that. White-haired and deadly with a knife, she knew the kitchen and the tastes of the castle’s inhabitants better than anyone.

“Saix,” she said briskly. “Good, you’re here. Come.”

He went to her. From Mrs. Potts, he didn’t even mind taking orders. At least he could look  _ her  _ in the eye.

“Now,” Mrs. Potts said, handing him a pitcher of wine. “The kings won’t want to be tipsy while they discuss politics, so make sure to dilute the wine a fair bit. Lea’s as well--light knows we don’t need  _ him _ drunk in front of foreign royals.”

Saix allowed himself to smile. He’d seen Lea drunk before. He’d once cast a forbidden Cure spell to fix his master’s hangover, only to make him stop whining about it. Lea was a lightweight for his size.

“The King didn’t bring his queen,” Mrs. Potts said. “Only his bodyguard and magician, I suppose they serve him or--oh, never mind.  _ They’ll  _ take dinner with the servants. It’ll only be the three royals in the room.”

He nodded. It was a natural thing for him to be quiet when someone hadn’t asked him a question. Or at the very least it was habit bought by thirteen years’ servitude.

“Make sure not to--you there, get that off the heat!”

The cook scurried to do what Mrs. Potts said, and Saix relaxed. He’d served the family at dinner before. Nothing was different about this.

He washed his hands, memorizing what Mrs. Potts told him about the dinner itself. It was more elaborate than what the family typically ate, but that was only to be expected. Dinners with foreign royals were something of a dance, a show to impress the other country. How impressed the King of Disneyland would be being waited on by a twice-runaway slave, remained to be seen.

Too soon, the royals were being seated and Saix was sent to bring wine to the table.

He paused in the doorway, quickly memorizing the seating arrangement. Ansem was at the head of the table, naturally, with Mickey to his left and Lea to his right. Saix cast his eyes to the ground and went to serve the wine.

“Honestly, Ansem,” Mickey said as Saix poured his wine, “you don’t have a servant who could do this?”

“My household employs paid labor for skilled jobs,” Ansem replied. “Unskilled labor is all done by slaves.”

“Even unskilled laborers deserve compensation,” Mickey said.

Saix pressed his lips together, keeping his head down where no one could see his expression as he served Ansem, then Lea. He diluted the wine with the water pitcher on the table. This was not a conversation he wished to be trapped in the middle of. Ansem’s order not to disappoint him loomed large.

Saix stepped to the back wall while the royals argued, well within earshot. This turned out to be a mistake.

“You,” Mickey said abruptly. “What’s your name?”

Saix glanced up enough to see the king’s finger pointed at him. He glanced at his owner, then bowed, hands at his sides. “My name is Saix, Your Majesty.”

Mickey made an unhappy, almost disgusted sound. “No. Your real name.”

He didn’t look up. “My name is Saix, Your Majesty,” he repeated. “That has been my name for thirteen years.”

“Oh, that’s not the  _ point! _ What name did your parents give you?”

“Cousin,” Ansem said, sharpness entering his voice. “Please do not interrogate my staff.”

“Your staff? He’s your  _ slave, _ Ansem. He didn’t have a choice! You,” Mickey said, turning back to Saix. “You ran away twice, correct?”

His hands  _ did not _ twitch toward the scar. Nor did he rise from his bow. “I did, Your Majesty.”

“And you would run again, but three times means death. Isn’t that right?”

“That is  _ enough, _ cousin,” Ansem said sharply.

Saix closed his eyes, took a breath. He had no love for the institution of slavery, nor for Ansem himself. But he could not let this lie. For his own sake, if nothing else, he needed this dinner to go well for his owner and master.

He sank to one knee, head down, hand over his heart. “My Lord Ansem,” he said. “With your permission, I would like to answer.”

Ansem was silent for a moment. Saix wondered if he would be in trouble later for interrupting. Ansem would hardly punish him in front of the infamously anti-slavery king, but he might later, if Saix didn’t play this right.

“Answer,” Ansem said, a warning in his voice.

“Thank you, my Lord Ansem.” He stayed where he was. “Your Majesty is mistaken. A slave who would run away, even for the first time, is not afraid of death.”

“What do you mean?” Mickey asked.

“The law only  _ requires _ that a three-time runaway be put to death, Your Majesty,” he said. “But a master may kill a slave for running away once.”

“Ansem!” Mickey said, horror seeping into his voice.

Saix pushed on. If he didn’t finish his thought now, he would be punished, for making the king think worse of slavery than he already did. “My apologies, Your Majesty. The point I wish to make is that--I do not refrain from running because I am afraid to die. I stay because there is nowhere else I would rather be.”

He kept his heartache out of his voice, bottled it up in the corner of himself where no one, not even Ansem, could touch him.  _ Anymore, _ was the ending to that sentence. There was nowhere else he would rather be  _ anymore. _

“You were born free, is that not correct?”

“It is, Your Majesty.”

“And you would rather be a slave?”

Did the king not realize what he was doing? Or did he think Saix so foolish as to say he would rather be free in front of his owner, who already thought him untamable?

“I would rather be here, Your Majesty,” he repeated firmly. That at least was true. He would rather be here than anywhere else he had been since he’d been captured thirteen years ago.

“Cousin,” Ansem said. “I must insist you do not interrogate him further. He has a job to do, and we have much to discuss.”

Saix could hear the exasperated sigh Mickey didn’t let out. “Yes, all right. Though I can see we haven’t progressed since the last time we spoke.”

~

“So what is your name?”

Saix glanced over at Lea without raising his head. If Lea hadn’t had his eyes on Saix’s, he’d have missed it completely.

“My name is Saix, Master,” the slave responded, dimming the lamp beside Lea’s bed.

“Yeah, but--” He huffed a sigh. “That’s not the name you were born with, right? Because you weren’t bred.”

Saix sighed, scratching the scar on his face with a thumbnail. “May I speak freely, Master?”

“‘Course you can,” Lea said, surprised to hear him ask. Saix was--different lately. Wasn’t he? Lea remembered seeing sparks of life more often, but--not anymore.

“My name is Saix, Master,” the slave said. “It will be my name until I die. There’s no point to telling you what name I had at birth, because it isn’t my name anymore.”

With that, he turned away, unrolling the bedroll he slept in at the foot of Lea’s bed. Lea sighed, tucking his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

When he’d gotten Saix, they’d been boys. And the boy Saix had never been so--so perfectly obedient. Such a perfect  _ slave. _ He’d had a spark in him, a set to his jaw that said he’d never be fully broken. Lea had loved that, loved that his attendant was a wild thing, loved that he behaved for  _ Lea _ of all people. When had that changed?

He couldn’t remember. For so long, he hadn’t worried about it--and now that he was worried, he couldn’t think of it. He was a terrible master.

(He was a terrible friend.)

~

Saix awoke to the sound of the door opening.

“Saix,” said a voice. “Get dressed and come to the front hall. Lord Ansem requires you.”

The room was still dark, shuttered against the creeping light of dawn, but he still kept his emotion from his face. Ansem had not punished him last night for interrupting, nor for wielding sword and magic in Lea’s defense. He’d forgiven Saix the latter offense. Saix was still waiting for the verdict on the former.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he told Xehanort, getting to his feet.

“Do better than that,” Xehanort warned, closing the door.

Saix dressed quickly, without turning on a light. He wouldn’t wake Lea if he didn’t have to. He slipped out the door, tying his hair back into a braid as he headed to the front hall.

Xehanort was there along with Ansem. The old man had been the king’s attendant since he’d been a young man, the same age Lea had been when Ansem bought him Saix. After so many years, Xehanort had the king’s ear in everything he did. He was his adviser in all but name.

He was, however, not Saix’s master. Saix bowed to Ansem, hands pressed together in front of his chest. “My Lord Ansem. You summoned me.”

“So I did.” There was a pause, which Saix tried not to read into. After thirteen years, it still drove him insane to be unable to look at faces and read what people were thinking. “Come, Saix,” Ansem said, turning. “Xehanort, you have your duties.”

“Yes, Lord Ansem,” Xehanort murmured, turning away.

Saix followed his owner, a step behind him, feet making no sound on the wooden floors.

“You worried me yesterday, Saix,” Ansem said. “Asking to speak to my cousin.”

“I apologize, my Lord Ansem,” Saix replied. So. He was in trouble for that after all. “I meant only to reassure him.”

“You spoke well,” Ansem said. “Not even I would suspect how unbroken you were when I purchased you.”

“Thank you, my Lord Ansem,” Saix replied.  _ Broken. _ How he hated the word, as though he were a horse brought to bridle. But it was what his owner desired him to be, and being it had kept him safe and warm and fed for ten years. Or at least, for the years most recent.

He shoved that thought away, into the corner of his heart where he kept what was left of who he’d been before. There was no point to thinking of it.

“And you saved my children’s lives,” Ansem added. “Such an action should be rewarded.”

He didn’t answer this time. Ansem wasn’t asking for an apology, nor giving him an order. He wouldn’t expect a response.

Ansem came to a halt. Saix stopped a step behind him, looking up enough to see where they were.

Confusion swirled through him. They were in one of the inner courtyards--the one where the guards trained. Braig and Aeleus were warming up in one corner already. Aeleus jogged over when he saw them.

“Lord Ansem?” he asked. “He’s ready?”

Ansem nodded, beckoning to Saix. “You acquitted yourself well against an assassin,” he said. “I would see you fight.”

Saix took a step toward Aeleus, jaw locked to prevent his confusion escaping him. He didn’t need to understand an order to follow it.

“You will spar with Aeleus,” Ansem said. “You are not to use magic.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” Saix said. This--still didn’t make sense. He was forbidden to wield a weapon, to fight in any way. That one command had followed him for ten years. But now--

Ansem wanted something from him, something he could only get if Saix fought. Whatever it was, he would have it. Saix had long given up on rebellion.

Aeleus showed him to a ring drawn on the ground in chalk. “Ready?” he asked, taking a stance opposite him.

Saix studied him.  _ Classic Earth posture, _ he thought. Not that it was surprising, given Aeleus’s fighting style and preferred weapon.

Ansem wanted to see him fight.

He lifted his arms, facing Aeleus fully, left foot slightly forward. Against Earth, the element that would not be moved, he would use air.

Ansem’s voice echoed. “Begin.”

Aeleus moved immediately, crossing the short distance in a lunging punch. Saix moved, reflexes he’d thought dead kicking in.

He stepped to the right, inside Aeleus’s punch, close to his body. His right arm scooped under Aeleus’s back arm, his foot stepped in front of Aeleus’s center line--

Aeleus toppled, but he was quick for a man his size. He rolled and came back to his feet, turning toward Saix again.

Saix let Aeleus drive the fight, kept to defending himself. He knocked Aeleus off his balance several more times, but the man kept coming. He was an elephant, and if rumors were to be believed, he had Earth magic in his veins that let him build his stamina using the ground under his feet. Saix couldn’t outlast him--but he remained unconvinced he was really meant to fight.

“You’re going easy on me,” Aeleus said as he got to his feet for the dozenth time.

“So are you,” Saix replied, eyes on the man’s chest.

Aeleus shook his head. “You won’t win like that.”

“Am I meant to?” Saix asked, eyes flicking toward his owner and then back to Aeleus.

“You’re meant to show him how you fight,” Aeleus said. “How you fought  _ her. _ ”

He looked again toward his owner, a split second too long. When he looked back, it was too late to block the punch. He staggered, absorbing some of the blow.

He was off balance now, and Aeleus didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath. He moved in, a rapid series of strikes and kicks aimed at the vulnerable parts of Saix’s torso.

Saix struggled. He managed to block some, divert some to less sensitive areas, but he couldn’t get the rhythm back, couldn’t take Aeleus’s balance. Aeleus’s foot hooked his ankle and yanked, and he fell.

He hit the ground hard, breath whooshing out of him. He waited for the assault to continue, but nothing came. Instead, footsteps reached his ears.

“You disappoint me, Saix.”

His owner’s voice. He would respond to that voice in much worse shape than he was then. He rolled up to his hands and knees, turning toward Ansem. “I apologize, my Lord Ansem,” he said, bowing so that his forehead touched the dirt.

“I do not want an apology, Saix,” Ansem said sharply. “I want to see you fight. Fight Aeleus as you would if he were attacking my son.”

That--changed things. That suggested a purpose to the order, a purpose that wasn’t to put Saix in harm’s way as punishment for speaking out last night. “As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he said, not lifting his head.

“Again,” Ansem ordered, footsteps retreating.

Ansem hadn’t said he could heal, so he didn’t. He just got to his feet and faced Aeleus again.

_ Fight Aeleus as you would if he were attacking my son. _

His eyes sharpened on the muscles of Aeleus’s torso, watching for movement. This time, he wouldn’t hold back.

Wind wouldn’t do for this. He needed fire.

Aeleus moved in. Saix met him halfway, light on the balls of his feet, weight forward. Aeleus started to aim a punch at him; Saix batted it to the side so that it passed between his ear and shoulder, slamming his other hand forward into Aeleus’s face. The man stumbled, more out of surprise than pain.

This time, Saix pressed his advantage. He stepped forward, behind Aeleus, the hand on the bigger man’s face pushing him along with him. Saix crouched, bringing his knee up into Aeleus’s spine, then stomping down into Aeleus’s knee.

Aeleus fell, but he was quick. The arm Saix had trapped whipped back, nailing him in the back of the head with its elbow. Saix staggered and toppled over Aeleus, rolling quickly back up to his feet.

“Better,” Aeleus said, getting to his feet and resuming his stance.

Saix moved in, jabbing at Aeleus’s shoulder. Aeleus blocked and aimed his own punch at Saix’s gut.

Saix moved forward, arm out, jamming Aeleus’s arm back. He didn’t give the man a chance to pull away, jabbed two punches into the join of hip and thigh and backed away, resuming his original place. If Aeleus were attacking his master, he would put himself between them, a human shield.

The battle flowed differently now. Saix let himself fight, let the energy under his skin press toward the surface. Aeleus was tireless, but Saix was quick and determined. He hadn’t been allowed to fight in ten years. He wouldn’t give up so easily now.

Finally, Aeleus aimed another punch at him, and this time he missed his chance to counter when Saix blocked. Saix had him on the ground, arm twisted up behind him, his own knee in Aeleus’s back.

“Yield,” he hissed.

Aeleus laughed. “I yield. You’re strong, for a slave.”

He stood and backed away, turning to face his owner, eyes down.

“Better,” Ansem said. Once again he came closer. “Now, we will do things differently.”

He took up a place just outside the circle, Saix turning to face him. “Aeleus will attack me,” he said. “You will defend me.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” Saix said. He wasn’t sure he liked where this “demonstration” was going. But if his owner ordered it, he would continue.

He turned back to Aeleus, lifting his eyes as the man got to his feet and dusted himself off. Strictly speaking a slave should never make eye contact with a freeman, but fighting was best done with eyes on the opponent’s chest anyway. He watched Aeleus, careful.

Aeleus charged him, head low, making to tackle him. Saix braced himself, feet apart. If Aeleus was fire, he would be earth.

Aeleus slammed into Saix, but Saix wouldn’t move unless he lifted him. In the moment it took the bigger man to manage that, Saix lifted his knee toward his face. Aeleus blocked with his hand, and Saix brought his elbow down on the back of his head. Aeleus fell, rolled to the side and back to his feet.

Aeleus circled. Saix watched him--and Aeleus lunged for Ansem. Stupid. Saix had forgotten the goal.

He moved between them, barely in time to stop Aeleus reaching his owner. Ansem hadn’t moved. Saix doubted Aeleus would have laid a hand on him, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was following the orders he’d been given.

He drove a punch into Aeleus’s solar plexus. It was like hitting a wall, but even a wall had to move when Saix put all his weight and muscle behind it. The step back was all he needed to bring up a kick into the join of Aeleus’s hip and thigh. Now the man staggered back a few steps, giving Saix room to bring the fight away from his owner.

He pressed in closer, darting punches at Aeleus’s shoulders and throat. Aeleus blocked most, absorbed the rest, then came in with a blow too fast for Saix to dodge that sent him reeling. Through the spot in his eyes, he saw Aeleus approaching Ansem.

He roared, a sound he didn’t recognize from his own throat, and lunged, closing his arms around Aeleus’s legs and bringing him to the ground. Aeleus kicked at him, rolling over in his grip. Saix hopped to his feet and circled him, kicking at his ribs and putting himself once again between his opponent and his owner.

“Enough.”

The word snapped Saix back to himself. He whirled to face Ansem, pressing his hands together and bowing low.

“Saix,” Ansem said. “I am satisfied. You will be my son’s bodyguard, in addition to your normal duties.”

Reality seemed to spin away from him for a minute, leaving him hanging alone in the universe in front of his owner.  _ Bodyguard? _ To be a bodyguard meant fighting, meant-- _ training _ . It meant--

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he said. Ever obedient. Ever  _ broken. _

Aeleus clapped him on the back, so sudden he almost stumbled. “You’ll be training with us in the morning,” he said.

“Every morning,” Ansem agreed. “At this hour, before my son rises. You will then report back to him and resume your duties as normal.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he said again.

“What is your weapon?” Aeleus asked him.

He thought back to the weapon that the raiders had taken from him. It was good that his hands were already pressed together, or they would have clenched into fists. “A claymore.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I underestimated this story. I've treated it like any other fic, assuming it would strictly follow the three-act structure and restraining the world and the characters to continually drive it along that structure. And it doesn't work. This world is enormous, all the characters have a history with each other. I've spent hours an countless words just exploring the dynamics of different cultures and characters.
> 
> So, what does that mean?
> 
> It means that I'm going to take my time with this one. Not in terms of the actual writing, but in terms of how the plot moves. There's a lot to tell here, and I want to tell as much of it as I can. I don't know how long it'll end up being in the end. Meantime, I have a full-time job now, and I'm usually exhausted when I get home, so updates will be more sporadic than originally intended.

Chapter Three

_ Nine years ago _

_ “I swear you’re doing this on purpose.” _

_ Saix kept his eyes on the ground, doing nothing to wipe the sullen expression off his face. “No, sir.” _

_ “No?” Even asked, folding his arms over his chest. “Are you sure? This is the third time you’ve been in to see me in a week. Are your injuries even healing before you earn more?” _

_ His mouth twisted, fist still clenched tightly around his tunic. His back stung, and he knew better than to think it would be healed. Ansem just didn’t waste time letting slaves recover from infection. Easier to clean them up and bandage them, then let them suffer through healing. _

_ “Speak, child,” Even said. _

_ His shoulders went up defensively, mouth twisting further into a scowl. But he never argued with Even. The healer had ways, he’d learned, to make bandaging injuries hurt. He wasn’t above using them if Saix was what he called “insufferable.” _

_ Besides. He had a way of talking that reminded Saix of his old teachers. It made him feel like he was back there being scolded, and that made him want to please the man no matter how proud he might be. _

_ “Saix,” Even said warningly. _

_ He looked away, shoulders rising further. “I--” He swallowed, looking down, feeling small and foolish. “I insulted my master, sir.” _

_ Even didn’t say anything. Quietly, he glanced up through his lashes until he could see Even. The healer had his arms folded over his chest, and the look on his face said he was waiting for an explanation. And he wasn’t going to do his job and patch Saix up until he got one. _

_ Saix looked down, mouth twisting again. “My--my master thought it was funny, sir,” he muttered. _

_ Even sighed. “Sit,” he ordered. _

_ So that was the explanation he’d been waiting for. Saix relaxed a fraction as he hopped onto the exam table. Doing what the healer wanted was a matter of common sense in his world. _

_ The wounds stung when Even started cleaning them, but no more than normal. Even had evidently forgiven him his foolishness. _

_ “You have an unusual situation,” Even told him as he cleaned the wounds. “Your master does not have the final say in the rules you follow and the punishment for breaking them. You’ve been here a year, you should know this by now.” _

_ “I know, sir,” he said, not quite resentfully. “I didn’t realize Ansem was there to hear.” _

_ “His Majesty,” Even said sharply. “Watch your tongue, Saix. Don’t make me report you for another punishment before I’ve even finished cleaning you up.” _

_ “His Majesty,” Saix repeated obediently. “I didn’t realize His Majesty was there to hear.” _

~

Lea was up and starting to get dressed when Saix returned.

“You’re back!” Lea said, startled. “Where did you go?”

Saix bowed, hands pressed together in front of him. A different master, one of his old masters, would have punished him for not being here. As an attendant, it was his job to help his master get ready for the day. “Forgive me, Master,” he said. “My lord Ansem summoned me.”

He could feel the sudden tension, and belatedly realized what it would look like to his master--his attendant called away before he rose, then returning covered in dirt.

“What did he do?”

Oh yes, Saix could hear the anger in his master’s voice. He hurried to explain.

“He--he wanted me to spar with Aeleus, Master,” he said. “It was--a test. To see if I could protect you.”

“You  _ did _ protect me.”

His master was in front of him, and Saix couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there, but his hand was under his chin, tilting his face up so he could see.

“This doesn’t look like sparring,” he said, voice trembling with barely-contained rage. “This looks like he had Aeleus  _ beat _ you.”

Saix kept his eyes away from his master’s face, as a slave should. “No, Master,” he said.

Lea didn’t wait for the explanation. “He can’t do this to you,” he snapped. “You  _ saved _ me. He can’t just--”

“Master,” Saix interrupted. “Please let me finish.”

Maybe it was that Lea trusted him, or maybe it was the fact that for a moment Saix had broken every rule and met his eyes, but his master’s mouth closed with a snap. Saix looked down quickly and took a breath.

“My lord Ansem had me fight Aeleus,” he said. “I won.”

“You what?” He could hear the frown in Lea’s voice. “You-- _ really? _ ”

“Yes, Master.”

“But…”

Lea fell silent. Saix seized the chance.

“It was--a test, Master,” he said. “I passed. My lord Ansem declared me your bodyguard.”

A moment passed. Then Lea flopped down onto his bed. Saix could feel his master’s eyes on him, and he knew Lea well enough to recognize the silence as stunned.

“My bodyguard,” Lea repeated. Then, “You  _ won? _ ”

“Yes, Master,” Saix repeated.

“I’ve seen Aeleus fight,” Lea pressed. “He’s unstoppable. You  _ stopped  _ him?”

“I pinned him the first time,” he said. A wild, giddy joy was rising in him, and he struggled to maintain his composure. “The second--my lord Ansem called the fight.”

He could feel his master’s grin, and he had to fight not to let his own reach his face.

“Gods,” Lea said happily. “You  _ won. _ Saix--you know what this means, right? You get to  _ fight _ again.”

He could no longer contain the smile. “The thought had occurred to me, Master.”

Lea took a breath. “Go get cleaned up,” he ordered, once again the prince. “And then go to Even for your face. Tell him I said to heal it and any other bruises from the fight.”

He bowed. “Yes, Master.”

~

“Saix.”

After last night, the voice was already familiar to him, though he’d dreaded having to hear it again. Still, he was a slave, and the voice belonged to his master’s guest, so he turned toward it, bowing deeply as was proper for a slave bowing to a royal. “Your Majesty.”

His eyes were down, but he caught the flicker of movement as Mickey beckoned him into a side room. A side room that technically the king shouldn’t be in, and that in no way should Saix follow him into.

He cursed the collar around his neck. He had no place reprimanding a foreign king.

He followed Mickey in.

The room was clean despite being rarely used; the palace had hundreds of slaves and servants keeping every room as neat as if it were used every day. Mickey ignored the surroundings and shut the door behind them.

“Saix,” he said seriously. “I wanted to apologize for putting you on the spot like I did. I know you couldn’t speak freely in front of Ansem.”

_ God protect me. _

“I spoke truthfully, Your Majesty,” he said aloud.

“If you were happy as a slave, why did you run away?”

Saix couldn’t help glancing toward the door, as though he hoped someone would rescue him. Anyone would do--he’d take the beating for being in this room alone with a foreigner if it got him away from this conversation.

Mickey gasped.

“Did Ansem do that?”

His eyes widened, hand flying to the bruise on his face. “N-no, Your Majesty,” he said immediately. “It--I was sparring--”

“That looks like you were  _ beaten. _ ”

“I was not, Your Majesty.” He tried to think of a way out of this. Mickey wouldn’t approve of a slave being a bodyguard--it was too high-risk a job. “It was a fight. I won. I was on my way to the healer to see to the bruises. If you’ll excuse me--”

“Saix,” Mickey said seriously. “Where else did he beat you?”

Every prayer he’d ever known ran through his head at once. “Your Majesty,” he said. “I was not beaten. My lord Ansem wanted to see me fight. The bruises are being taken care of. Please, I need to get them seen to so I can return to my master.”

“Your master.” Mickey took a breath. “Right. That was what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Your Majesty, please.” He didn’t want to hear this. Lea was the best master he’d ever had, the best master he could ask for.

“I want to buy you, Saix.”

Saix’s head jerked up before he could catch himself. He saw Mickey’s face, dark and serious, before he looked back down. “Your Majesty?” he asked.

“Look at me, please, Saix.”

Once--only once--his owner had given him the same order. It hadn’t gone well. But Mickey was different. Mickey--he didn’t believe in slavery.

Saix looked up.

Mickey looked as serious as Saix had seen anyone look since he’d been taken. “You’re unhappy,” the king said. “I know I won’t make any headway with Ansem. He’s too comfortable the way he lives now. But I could save you. Buy you and set you free.”

The idea made Saix dizzy, and he wasn’t sure if it was fear or a sudden, dangerous surge of hope that made him feel that way. He lifted a hand, running his fingertips over the scar on his face. It grounded him.

“Begging Your Majesty’s pardon,” he said. “But I do not wish to be sold.”

“Not sold to another master,” Mickey said, like it made a difference. “I would buy you and release you immediately.”

He let his hand fall back to his side. Then, on impulse, he let himself drop to one knee, lowering his head.

“May I speak freely, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“Please get up,” Mickey said. “Saix, I’m not treating you as a slave, please don’t act like one.”

He would not. He would not be a pawn in this king’s crusade, any more than he would be his master’s outlet for rebellion. There was too much at stake for that. He would play this game, but he would make his own rules. He would satisfy his owner at the cost of himself, as he had for six years.

“If you are not treating me as a slave, Your Majesty, may I speak freely?” he asked.

“Of course you can!”

“The freedom you speak of is worthless to one such as me, Your Majesty,” he said. “A twice-runaway is safe only at his master’s side. If I did not have a collar, I would be killed without trial.”

“You would be safe in Disneyland,” Mickey protested.

“I would be bound, Your Majesty,” Saix corrected him. “Bound not to a person, as I am now, but to a country that is not mine. I would rather be bound here.”

“You can’t mean that!”

“I do, Your Majesty,” he said firmly. “I do not wish to be sold. Not even into freedom.”

“But you would be  _ free. _ ”

“It is not a freedom I desire, Your Majesty. I beg of you, do not make me a piece in your crusade.”

Mickey was silent, and Saix took the chance. “May I go, Your Majesty? My master will be wondering where I am.”

Mickey sighed. “Yes,” he said. “You can go. I’m sorry for delaying you.”

Saix stood, bowed (hands at his sides), and left.

~

Freedom was worthless to someone like him. A twice-runaway, he’d learned early on, was safe only at his master’s side. Even if he could get out of the collar the way, the scars would mean his death. And Disneyland… Saix would never be part of Disneyland.

_ The desert is wild and its people are wild. _

He sighed and knocked on the door to Even’s labs.

“Enter.”

The voice settled some of his nerves. From the first day, Even had treated him like he could be trained, like he could be a good slave if someone had the patience to teach him how. And the way he’d done it had made Saix feel like it was worth it.

It  _ was _ worth it, he told himself again as he opened the door. Anything was worth it--not because a life as a slave was a life, but because of Lea. Because in this household, with this master, he had a life worth living.

“Saix,” Even said when he saw him. There was surprise in the alchemist’s voice. Saix took pride in that--once upon a time, Even had been only resigned when he saw him. “What happened this time?”

That part sounded resigned, and disappointed. Saix flinched before he could stop it.

“I wasn’t punished, sir,” he said quickly. “I was--my lord Ansem asked me to spar with Aeleus. I took a blow--my master wants it healed, and any others he can’t see.”

There was a pause. “Let me see.”

He followed the alchemist’s voice to his desk and lifted his chin so Even could see the bruise.

Even hummed. “Sparring is a word for it,” he said. “Aeleus punches like an elephant. I wouldn’t think you’d still be standing. You said there’s more?”

“Yes, sir. On my torso.”

“Take off your shirt,” Even ordered, “and sit on the exam table.”

“Yes, sir.”

He almost thought he’d gotten out of it without saying more. He underestimated how well Even knew him.

“What else?” the healer asked, prodding the bruises on Saix’s torso.

He winced, but tried to hide it. “N-nothing, sir.”

“Saix.” There was a warning in that voice--not the threat that Ansem could hide in a conversational tone, but the kind of gentle rebuke that Even wielded to much greater effect.

Even wouldn’t punish him. Even would, rather, be able to tell him what to do about it. More than his owner, sometimes more than Lea, Saix  _ trusted  _ the healer.

“King Mickey asked to speak to me, sir,” he said quietly. His trust notwithstanding, he was worried about what Even would do with the information.

“Mickey of Disneyland,” Even said. “Would this have anything to do with the conversation you had with him at dinner last night?”

Saix winced. Somehow, the healer managed to pull that reaction from him every time, without once raising a hand to him. “Y-yes, sir,” he admitted.

Even sighed. “Have you reported this to His Majesty, or your master?”

He was too old to fidget under the healer’s scrutiny, but he did. “I haven’t had the chance, sir. I was on my way here--”

Even was silent, but somehow he cut Saix off anyway. Saix looked down, waiting for his judgment.

“Tell me what you told His Majesty,” Even said at last.

Saix swallowed. “He wants to--to free me, sir.”

Silence.

“I told him I didn’t want him to.”

“And do you?”

He opened his mouth to say no, but the words wouldn’t come. He closed his eyes.

Even sighed. “Saix,” he said. “How long have you been here?”

“Ten years, sir.”

“Do you regret those ten years?”

This time he could answer. “No, sir. This--this is the best household I’ve been in.”

“But you would rather be free.”

“No, sir.” The answer was automatic, but it was true. Freedom wasn’t what he wanted. He drew a breath. “I--I want to be here, sir.”

“Why?”

He swallowed. “I want--” This was hard. Even would hear if he twisted the truth, in ways that Mickey could not. “I want to stay with my master, sir.”

“Good.” Even put a hand on Saix’s shoulder and one on his face, and cool healing magic sank into his skin. “Then you will go to His Majesty, and you will tell him exactly that. You know better than to keep something like this secret, Saix.”

“Yes, sir.” He wanted to say he was going to tell Ansem anyway--but it would have been a lie, and Even could always tell when he lied.

“Good,” Even said again. He stepped back. “You’re healed. You know where to go next.”

“Yes, sir.” Ansem would be finishing breakfast with his master right now. Saix slid off the exam table to his feet, bowed to Even, and left.

~

Saix was taking longer than Lea had expected when he’d sent him to Even. He knew the healer liked to lecture him, but Saix hadn’t done anything wrong.

Ansem was just finishing his meal when Saix entered--not from the kitchen, where he would have gone to eat, but from the hallway. He’d come straight here, and even though his eyes were on the ground Lea could see he was nervous. What was wrong?

Saix didn’t approach his master, but the king, sinking to his knees beside Ansem. “My lord Ansem,” he said, and yes, he was  _ definitely _ nervous.

“Saix,” Ansem said. He’d lifted his eyes from the report he was reading, focused them on Saix. “Speak.”

Saix hesitated. Lea started to get to his feet, worried now.

“His Majesty of Disneyland,” Saix said at last. “He--asked to speak to me, my lord Ansem.”

“And what did my cousin say?”

Another marked hesitation. “He--said he wants to--to buy me, my lord Ansem. To set me free.”

Lea felt like he’d been punched. He leaned forward, hands tense on the edge of the table. Ansem, for his part, said nothing. The silence was marked.

“I told him I did not want to be freed, my lord Ansem,” Saix said. “I  _ do _ not want to be free. I want--to stay here, with my master. I only--knew I had to tell you I spoke to him. I beg your forgiveness.”

Ansem was silent. Lea got to his feet.

Saix wasn’t born a slave, he’d known that all along. There were ways on ways for people to be sold into slavery--Ansem had never bothered to tell Lea how his attendant had become a slave, only everything that made him unfit for his position.

“Mickey shouldn’t be cornering you like that,” Lea said, putting a gentle hand on Saix’s shoulder. It was a reminder to his dad more than to Saix.  _ Saix _ hadn’t done anything wrong. “If he wants to buy you, he should be coming to us.”

Ansem sighed, and Lea could see that he was relaxing. “Lea is right,” he said. “I do not hold you accountable, Saix. You did right coming to me. I will speak to my cousin. For now, you are not to speak to him without myself or my son present.”

With his hand still on Saix’s shoulder, Lea could feel when he relaxed. “Yes, my lord Ansem. May I tell him of my orders, if he asks to speak to me?”

“You will tell him you do not wish to speak to him,” Ansem said. “If he orders you, you will remind him of protocol--that he should not be speaking to my slaves without my presence.”

“Yes, my lord Ansem.”

Lea didn’t think he was imagining Saix’s relief. Because he wasn’t being punished, or because he wouldn’t have to talk to Mickey again?

“Saix,” Lea said, squeezing his attendant’s shoulder. “Go get breakfast and meet me at the terrace. My lessons are outside today, weather’s too nice for the classroom.”

“Yes, Master.”

Saix waited for Lea to release him before standing and bowing, first to Ansem and then to Lea, hands pressed together in front of him. He vanished into the kitchens, while Lea watched him and tried to convince himself Saix would really rather be his than free.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look I'm back. Trying really hard to keep up with both this and SITBP.
> 
> I feel I should reiterate a few things about how I write romance (copied from the note in chapter three of SITBP, and containing mentions of rape and abuse and general spoilers)::
> 
> \- Everyone has a history. That history is usually messy as hell. Also, almost no one is a virgin unless they're also asexual or I'm writing middle-grade for some reason.  
> \- Kink negotiation and aftercare are much more important to me than the actual sex. Also, kinks can happen without sex. Very important to note that.  
> \- Rape and sexual abuse fuck you up for life, and if it happens to a character, they're unlikely to have any kind of enthusiastic sex for a LONG time. I feel it necessary to say this because I actually had people unhappy I didn't have a rape survivor immediately turn around and sleep with his (very recent) boyfriend.
> 
> I will also say that although in "romance" fics I don't do "slow burn," in fics like this I absolutely do. I'm writing this as a political drama with romantic subplots, which means that the burn will be slow as all hell.
> 
> That's all. Enjoy the fic.

_ Ten years ago _

_ Lea was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet as he and his father went to meet their purchase--Lea’s new attendant. _

_ “I will warn you now,” Ansem said. “He won’t work out. You  _ will _ choose a bred slave next.” _

_ “Yeah, whatever.” It was as simple and immediate as that. This--Saix?--he’d work out. Lea would make sure of it. _

_ One of the auction house handlers brought the boy over with a hand in his hair. The boy was fighting, ranting in a language that sounded like Arabic. He went abruptly still when he saw the royals, eyes dropping to the ground. _

_ “Your Majesty,” the handler said, shoving the slave forward. The boy stumbled but caught himself, shoulders hunched defensively. Lea was watching him close enough to catch the surprise that flickered across his face before everything, even the stubbornness, vanished. _

_ Ansem studied the boy. “Your name.” _

_ The boy bowed jerkily. “Saix, sir.” _

_ “I am king,” Ansem said. “You will address me as Your Majesty, or my lord Ansem.” _

_ Lea couldn’t miss the displeasure that twisted the slave’s features. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he muttered. _

_ “You’re my attendant now,” Lea said with a grin. “I’m Lea--your new master.” _

_ Another short bow. The slave didn’t speak this time. _

_ Lea’s grin widened. _

~

Ansem was above such petty mannerisms as watching Saix leave, but he was fully aware of the slave’s posture and disposition as he did.

Mickey wanted to free Saix. It was to be expected, really. The little king had made a point to buy or try to buy  _ someone _ in every country he’d gone proselytizing to. Usually someone who wasn’t worth much--someone getting too old to work, or a runaway or twice-runaway. Usually someone the person would be likely to give up. And now he’d turned his attention to Saix.

“Dad,” Lea interrupted his line of thought. “Stop.”

Ansem looked up at Lea, frowning faintly. “Stop what, Lea?”

“You’re thinking about all the reasons Saix is a problem,” Lea said. “He’s not. He did exactly what he was supposed to--what he told Mickey and coming to you to tell you. If anyone’s a problem, it’s Mickey.”

Ansem’s eyebrows came together with a snap. “You should have more care in how you discuss our diplomatic neighbors, Lea,” he said sternly.

“ _ You  _ should stop acting like Saix is your enemy,” Lea retorted. “You trust him with my  _ life, _ Dad. You made him my bodyguard. Can’t you stop expecting him to run away for ten minutes?”

“He has run away twice, Lea,” Ansem said, but his mind was no longer on his words. Saix  _ had _ tried to run away twice before. But this time, given the chance, with someone asking to free him, he had said no. Ansem discounted the idea that Saix might have lied; the slave had never succeeded in lying to him, not since the day he was purchased.

Saix had tried to run twice before, but not in the ten years since Ansem had purchased him. Perhaps it was time he found out why.

~

Xehanort came for Saix as he was finishing his meal.

“His Majesty has asked for you,” the older slave told him. “Before you go to your master.”

Saix tensed instinctively at the words. He hadn’t put so much as a little toe out of line recently--but never had Ansem asked to see him because he was doing everything  _ right. _ The latter part of the order soothed him, some.  _ Before _ meant that at least he would be going.

“I’m ready now, sir,” he said, getting to his feet and taking his plate to the sink. The few bites he hadn’t eaten weren’t worth keeping his owner waiting.

Xehanort glanced at the plate but didn’t say a word. “Then come with me,” he said, turning away.

Ansem was waiting in the dining hall, as though nothing had happened and no time had passed. He didn’t even look up as Saix knelt in front of him.

At last, he spoke.

“Saïx,” he said, setting aside what he'd been reading so intently. “You have been with us ten years.”

Saïx bowed his head but said nothing. It wasn't a question, didn't require an answer.

“I have been remiss,” Ansem said. “When I purchased you, I believed you would run a third time. It did not matter to me; it would only prove to my son that you were an unworthy attendant.”

Saïx bit his tongue. Running a third time would have meant his death. He shouldn't be surprised to learn that when he'd been purchased, Ansem would have been just as happy to see him dead.

“But now,” Ansem continued, “things are different. And I find that I have never asked what I should have in the beginning.”

His voice sharpened. “Saïx. You will tell me, in all detail, how and why you ran away.”

Saïx's vision went dark around the edges. He opened his mouth to answer, but only a thin breath escaped him.  _ How _ was easy enough. But _ why… _

He felt the mask slide over his features, the expression of neutral deference that slaves learned early on. There were things any slave knew and thought that their master didn't need to know. Saïx hadn't lived so long in this household without being able to lie, even to the king.

“I was trying to return to Agrabah, my lord Ansem.” His voice didn't shake in the least. “I was trying--to go home.”

“Agrabah is no longer your home,” Ansem reminded him.

He bowed his head. “Yes, my lord Ansem.” It was a rule he'd learned early on; in this household, a slave had no homeland but his master's. It might even have been the belief of his former masters, but until the king had purchased him and Even had taken over the job of training him, no one had ever bothered to explain to Saïx what was expected of him.

He could feel Ansem's eyes on him, and kept his head down and his expression blank. The silence stretched out, until it became clear that Ansem wanted something more from him.

“I belong to Radiant Garden, my lord Ansem,” he said softly. “I know that. I did not, at the time.”

He didn't look up, but he could feel Ansem's ire lessen. He was appeased. “Now, how.”

Saïx licked his lips unconsciously. He wasn't sure how Ansem would react to this news--but he also didn't have a ready lie.

“I broke into the carpenter's workshop, my lord Ansem,” he said. “I used magic to open the door and sawed the collar off my neck.”

“You broke in with magic,” Ansem repeated.

“Yes, my lord Ansem.”

Ansem sat back. “That should not have been possible,” he said sternly. “Those doors should have been warded against such a thing.”

“They were, my lord Ansem,” Saïx admitted. “I--went around the wards.”

Ansem studied him. “You have not run a third time,” he said.

Saïx bowed from his kneeling position. “I will _ never _ run again, my lord Ansem,” he said. “I will swear it by any god you name.”

A long time ago, Ansem might have demanded such an oath. Saïx took it as a mark of trust that this time, Ansem refused. “Your word is enough for now,” he said. “Return to your master.”

Saïx stood, bowed with his hands pressed together as though in prayer, and left.

The younger prince had joined his master for lessons. Saix caught his master’s attention to be sure he knew he was there, then retreated to the wall beside Roxas. Lea looked like he wanted to break the lesson to talk to Saix, but Saix steadfastly avoided his gaze. They could talk when his master’s lessons were over.

Roxas too was sneaking curious looks his way. Saïx wasn't as successful ignoring a fellow slave, mostly because Roxas so rarely broke the persona that all bred slaves had, the polite deference that betrayed no independent thought at all. Much like Saïx, Roxas's freedom came because his master willed it.

“Lea,” Selphie said exasperatedly. “You asked the question, are you really not going to listen to the answer?”

Saïx glanced up through his lashes to see his master, looking properly chagrined, turning back to his teacher.

“Sorry,” he said. “So why?”

Selphie propped her hip on the railing of the balcony. “Because of the Mad King.”

Lea glanced uncomfortably at his brother, then at Saïx. “What's  _ he _ got to do with it? He's been dead for years. Dad's been king…”

Selphie's eyes softened. “Your Highness,” she said. “Do you know the names on the walls?”

Lea looked confused. Saïx didn't blame him. In Radiant Garden, where the Mad King's heresies were well-known and warned against at every turn, some things he had done were so vile they were spoken of only in euphemism. The names on the walls were one of those things. Saïx knew, because his people used it to demonstrate the barbarism of outsiders--but Lea had no idea.

“There are names carved into the castle walls,” Lea said slowly. “People who stood against the Mad King and lost their lives for it. What about it?”

“Those people didn't stand against the Mad King, Lea,” Selphie said quietly. “They were slaves. The king sacrificed them on his altar and built them into the walls so that their souls would make him stronger.”

Saïx could feel his master's eyes go to him. He imagined Ienzo, who would know these events only as ghost stories, was likewise seeking out his attendant to be sure he was safe. He kept his eyes on the ground.

“But that's _ insane _ ,” Lea protested.

Selphie nodded. “That's why he's called the Mad King.”

There was silence. Then, “I still don't understand.”

“His Majesty of Disneyland,” Selphie explained, “thinks that your father should have more reason than anyone to side with him, to think slavery is barbaric--and avoidable. He thought that with Eraqus, and he was proven right. Now he's working on our king.”

Saïx clasped his hands behind his back so no one would see them shaking, would realize how badly he wanted to run his fingers over his collar or his runaway's scars. Radiant Garden would never be a free country. He knew that. There were too many nobles sharing power with the king, and none of them wanted to give up the comfort of their slaves.

“I don't get it.” Lea sounded sick to his stomach. “Why would someone do something like that?”

“He was insane, Your Highness,” Selphie said again. “He thought he was a god. He was the last of a long, unbroken line of kings marrying cousins and second cousins and passing their power to their child. His nobles overthrew him, and your father…”

She didn't need to tell him this part. Saïx knew she knew it from the way she trailed off, and he knew his master knew it from the feeling of his eyes on him. He didn't know what his master was thinking. He might be wondering what would have happened to Saïx if he'd been a slave when the Mad King was in power--or he might be wondering what would happen to him if Mickey got his way.

What _ had _ Disneyland done with their runaways? Saïx couldn't help wondering. Were they trapped in their homeland still, or had the king come up with some paperwork and set of treaties that would let them leave?

His scars were itching from how he was thinking about this, how he was trying not to imagine the scars being gone and the collar around his neck being so much scrap metal. He had to stop. He'd never go home, and so he'd never really be free.

~

Lea couldn't help putting a hand on Saïx's shoulder as they left at the end of the morning for lunch. “Hey,” he said quietly.

Saïx had stopped as soon as Lea touched him. He was a good slave, Lea thought, exactly what Ansem had wanted to buy ten years ago. But better, because in private he was showing glimpses of the Saïx he'd been before.

“You knew, didn't you?” Lea asked. “About the Mad King, and the walls.”

Saïx was watching the ground, not Lea's face, but Lea could read him well enough to spot the resignation there. “Yes, Master,” he said. “I knew.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

His voice broke. He'd known--he'd known _ enough _ , enough to know why he was the heir and not someone noble. But he hadn't known this.

Saix looked away. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Master,” he said. It sounded awkward, forced. It was a lie, and a bad one, like he wanted to be called on it.

Well, Lea would oblige him. “Don’t lie to me, Saix.”

Saix nodded reluctantly. “Master…” he said slowly, and took a breath. “Where--I heard horror stories of Radiant Garden’s Mad King,” he said. “Growing up. When I came here and found that the king now wasn’t--I hoped they were only stories.”

“But you didn’t think they were.” It wasn’t a question.

Saix answered anyway. “No, Master,” he said. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Lea asked. “Why did you think we’d be that horrible?”

Saix glanced down the hall, to where Ienzo was signing enthusiastically with Roxas. “Because that is what power does to people, Master,” he said quietly. “Give someone enough power, long enough, let them pass it down parent to child the way it always is--eventually they will use that power for things you did not intend.”

He reached out almost without meaning to, his hand grabbing Saix’s shoulder. “Don’t let me become that,” he said softly, urgently. “Don’t  _ ever _ let me become that.”

Saix didn’t look at him. “You won’t, Master,” he said softly. “That’s why my lord Ansem adopted you, why the nobles reclaimed their power when he took the throne.”

“I know,” he said. “But still--Saix, promise me.”

“I’m your attendant, Master. I have very little say in what you do and do not become.”

“You have  _ every _ say,” Lea insisted. “You’ll be like Xehanort to my dad, you know that. You’ll keep me in check.” He squeezed Saix’s shoulder, pleading.

Saix covered his hand with his own, squeezing back gently. “I’ll do my best, Master,” he said. Wryly, he added, “I can’t imagine letting you get a bigger head than you have already, at least.”

Lea laughed, and Saix jerked his hand away from his master’s as Ansem rounded the corner headed toward them, deep in conversation with Xehanort.

“Ah,” the king said, breaking away from his thought. “Lea, Ienzo. You’re finished with lessons for the morning?”

“Yeah,” Lea said. As always when he was facing his father, he had the irrational urge to tuck his hands behind his head like he was still sixteen and useless. Just to remind him that he had  _ chosen _ Lea as his heir, of all the people he could have chosen. Right now… right now he didn’t feel up to the fight that would happen. He wanted answers, and he wanted his dad to take him seriously enough to give them to him. “Dad, those aren’t slave names on the wall.”

Ansem’s eyes widened, just a fraction. He glanced at Saix, who like any good slave had his eyes carefully on the ground.

“Selphie told me,” Lea said. “I thought--Dad, what did he  _ do? _ ”

Ansem sighed and beckoned his sons to the dining hall with him. “I declared his sacrifices free when I took the throne,” he said. “Those who were born slaves were given free names by their next of kin. It was a promise--that in this country, even a slave’s life has value.”

Lea glanced over at Saix, who hadn’t lifted his eyes from the floor. He tried not to remember that once, Ansem had threatened to have Saix killed.

It was the law, he told himself. It was Ansem’s duty as king to enforce it. The fact that he  _ hadn’t _ said more about him than the threat itself.

Still, it sat badly with Lea, now more than it had before.

Saix caught his eye when Ansem’s back was turned, and glanced away just as quickly. Lea itched to ask what was going on behind his slave mask, but he didn’t want his dad to hear.

He meant to fall back behind his dad so he could ask before lunch, but Saix moved with a purpose, and he had to go along with it. He could have complained, could have pointed out that  _ he _ was the master here, but he didn’t want to. He was enjoying having enough of Saix back to silently boss his master around.

“Saix,” Ansem said without looking back. “You served admirably last night. I would have you serve us again tonight.”

Saix bowed, though Ansem couldn’t see him. “As my lord Ansem commands.”

“Dad,” Lea began, and stopped. There was no good way to ask this question.

Still, he couldn’t keep quiet.

“Saix, Roxas, Xehanort,” he said. “I want a word with my dad alone.”

Saix didn’t look surprised. Roxas did--he never left his master’s side. Unlike Saix, who answered to Ansem above even Lea, Roxas normally took orders only from Ienzo. Xehanort, as always, looked to the king.

Ansem studied Lea, then nodded. “Ienzo,” he began.

“The young master says he will stay,” Roxas said, bowing to the king.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

The attendants left for the kitchens and the rooms where most of the slaves ate, and Ansem nodded to Lea. “Ask.”

The questions bubbled up. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me--why didn’t  _ anyone _ tell me? Why did you free those slaves but not end slavery? Why is it so impossible for you to do it if Mickey could? Why--?” He cut himself off with a frustrated groan.

Ansem nodded to the table. “Have a seat,” he said. Slaves had already set the table with their lunch. No one waited on them directly during breakfast and lunch; even Roxas was there as a translator, not a body servant. “I will answer your questions. You are old enough to ask.”

The way he said that made Lea feel small and foolish for not asking sooner. But he took his seat and served himself a plate of ham slices, rice, and steaming beets as his father considered how to answer.

“My uncle was mad,” he said at last, leaning back in his chair. “We say it trivially, as a whispered curse in dark corners--but it is the truth of the matter. He was insane, and in any other family he would have been quietly disinherited from all titles and sent somewhere he couldn’t cause harm. But Radiant Garden was always a politically insular nation. Our country produces much, and in order for our goods to have the broadest possible reach we have avoided taking a side in any war, forging any treaty that would cripple our markets.

“As a result of this, Radiant Garden royalty was inbred in the extreme. Our nobility changes hands so often that the effects never have a chance to poison the lineage, but our royal family married cousins, nieces and nephews--even brothers and sisters. My mother, a second child, was married to a new duke. That is, I think, why I escaped the madness that took my uncle.

“Lea,” he said seriously, “the nobility of Radiant Garden never stood behind what my uncle did. They plotted and schemed--it was them who rescued me from the castle the night my mother was killed. And when they overthrew him and put me in his place, they took back the powers they had given up, little by little, generation after generation.”

“They're why you can't abolish slavery,” Lea said. “I know that. But then why'd Mickey do it so easily? Doesn't he have nobles?”

“He does not,” Ansem said. “You have hit on it precisely, Lea. Mickey has no nobles. No one but himself commands an armed force within his borders. Moreover, his is not a nation that produces raw materials. Disneyland is a factory nation. Factories require less labor, run as well in most countries on paid labor as slave. Not only was there no one equipped to fight Mickey on his decree, there was no one with enough stake in it to bother.”

Lea toyed with his fork, deep in thought. “But other countries have done it,” he said. “The Land of Departure did it.”

“And see how well it worked out for them,” Ansem said. “Nobility won the right to use prisoners as unpaid labor, and immediately set to criminalizing the existence of their former slaves. And those prisoners enjoy many fewer protections than they did as slaves.”

No, that was no better. Mickey held up Eraqus as evidence that it could be done, that other countries could follow his example. He was wrong, Lea knew that now.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much to know.

He couldn’t help trying to imagine it--Saix without a collar around his neck. The scars, though, were burned into his skin with dark fire. They would never heal; magic couldn’t make them fade. Even with all the magic in the castle, even with Saix’s own power, those would always mark him.

“Lea,” Ansem said, very seriously. “I need you to understand. It isn’t out of malice that I refuse to try to abolish slavery. It is to avoid the civil war that would happen if I tried.”

That just invited another question. “If you could do it, would you?”

He didn’t know what answer he expected. He tried not to hope one way or the other.


End file.
